Busmoor's Holiday

The term "busman's holiday" frequently comes to mind when I take any kind of a vacation, because the line between what I enjoy in my time off and what I do as a professional geographer is often blurred. It is far from a bad thing, though: if walking in the woods with with my family -- for example -- reminds me of something related to my work, I have chosen my work well, and am fortunate to have it.

My latest "Sombra" photo. I took the first first against a coffee backdrop in 2011,
when comparisons were made to the famous
"Shadow" statue of Sandino in Managua.

Twice in a fortnight, this precise example has played out. As with a walk on the Lexington rail trail two weeks ago, this morning's brief adventure in the Cape Cod moors reminded me of ongoing work I am doing with students, related to the development of the Nunckatassett portion of the Bay Circuit Trail. This weekend, the insights came as we walked through the Seabury Farm Conservation Area in Barnstable, at the recommendation of our hosts at the Lamb & Lion Inn. Equally inviting would have been the trails of an Audubon property directly behind the inn (and facing Cape Cod Bay, except that we had a canine companion with us, who is precluded by the Audubon management plan. The admissibility of dogs is an important consideration in any open-space management, and this area of Barnstable now has ample public land in both the dog and non-dog category.

When Pam and I -- and our doglet Perry -- stepped into the scene above, I exclaimed "The Moors!" as I was reminded of the upland grasslands of Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles (though our min-pin is neither a hound nor very Baskervillian). On further discussion, we found that we each had different definition of "moor," all of which were substantiated by quick Google searches and -- more importantly -- by the Oxford English Dictionary. We learned that it can mean a highland open space, especially if covered with heather, a swamp, or any uncultivated land. We also learned that "moor" in the ecological sense has an etymology that is completely separate from the word "Moor" relating to people of North Africa.

In some contexts, "moor" refers specifically to areas reserved for shooting (that is, hunting), which is the case on this property we were walking in Barnstable. In Massachusetts, hunting is allowed on public lands unless specifically prohibited, subject to certain set-backs in distance from roads and buildings. As we consider the development of trails through public lands in Bridgewater, this is an important subject to understand, as it is in any place experience rapid suburban sprawl. Newcomers are sometimes surprised to see hunters close to their homes, and long-timers are sometimes surprised to find that the places where they hunted in their youth are now off-limits. In this context, the signage used above can be a vital part of managing public trails. The photo includes another essential element of trail management, which is to identify the right level of vehicular access, and to find ways to achieve it that meet the various management objectives at a site.

I noticed this house as we were about to exit the property, along what is known as Aunt Hatch's Lane. This house was clearly in place before the recent designation of the surrounding land as public open space. In many similar situations -- I do not know whether this case is one of them -- public space becomes accessible only if access is provided across private lands. In such cases, tax benefits may accrue (a major topic in my course), along with a sense of serving the public good. It is also quite often the case that the value of this kind of property actually increases, despite the potential loss of privacy, because of its proximity to protected lands. In fact, some argue -- not without justification -- that land protection is often purused specifically as a way of protecting property values. It is certainly the case that many Massachusetts towns with a high proportion of public land also have extraordinarily high property values.

I named the photo above "buffer" because the value of the property is further enhanced by a thick growth of vegetation on a steep slope, separating it both visually and physically from the public way.

Aside from good exercise, a major reason to spend time in the out-of-doors is to appreciate its aesthetic beauty, and I was fortunate that Pam noticed the above "still life" along the trail's edge. It is good always to have an eye open for such encounters.

I look forward to hiking this property again, when I'm prepared for a longer exploration of the "Amazon Trail" just to the south of the area we explored. I am intrigued by its name, since it was the Amazon that got me into geography in the first place!

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Back to that Audubon property: we got no farther than the train tracks, which of course we know not to walk along, tempting though it be. The night before our walk, we noticed the Cape Cod Dinner Train, which we had enjoyed riding last year. This section of track is near the one low overpass along Route 6A, a quaint -- if treacherous -- crossing that I have admired since my first visit to the Cape many years ago.

Victoria's Real Secret

This image recently appeared on the very popular, self-deprecating So Mexican page on Facebook. The post and most online comments reference the pulga -- flea-market -- as a bargain-hunter's dream that is widely appreciated in Mexican-American communities (among many others) in the United States.

My first thought, however, is that the photograph might just as easily have been taken in Nicaragua. Outside of Managua is a "zona franca" in which various incentives encourage investment in light manufacturing such as textiles or basic assembly operations. These facilities -- such as Las Mercedes and Las Palmeras provide business services and utilities that would be in short supply elsewhere in the country, so that the rent per square meter might actually be higher than comparable facilities in the United States.


What the zones offer really offer, of course, is very low-cost labor, adding a additional, very wide layers of profit between those who make clothes and those who purchase them. 


In the case of Managua, the facilities are accessible to ports, but for high-value, low-weight items for which tight timing is part of the business model, proximity to the airport is even more important. The current geography of lingerie is apparently such that the outskirts of Managua is a good location for a 200,000-square-foot Victoria's Secret shop. That is a lot of bras and panties! And the real secret is what portion of the price of a $50 bra is paid to the women who made it, and whether more than a few top managers benefit from the operation at all.

Back to the opening photo -- one of the few "benefits" of having such a facility in one's neighborhood is that flawed items go to real factory outlets (like we used to have in the United States), and from there to various local markets. In Central America -- as in textile-producing areas throughout the periphery of the world space-economy -- slightly imperfect designer fashions are easy to come by.

All of which raises the question: how much is this stuff really worth anyway?

Guy Lombardo: Managua, Nicaragua ... a wonderful town

For four of the past five years, I have enjoyed a nice New Year's Day tradition -- attending an open house with many friends here in snowy Bridgewater in the midst of final preparations to lead a study tour to Nicaragua. As of January 1, I have usually gotten most of the gifts I will take to my host family and the other coffee farmers we will meet, and I have gotten all of the information I can to my students. So I spend the day savoring the good company of my friends and my family, while also thinking about the upcoming adventure far to the south ... and the last-minute preparations of packing and travel documents.

January 1 (or more likely, late the night before) is the only day most people think of Guy Lombardo. And for years, Auld Lang Syne was his one-hit wonder, to my knowledge. That is, until a friend shared this gem from 1946. The song is kitchy, to say the least, and the lyrics both celebrate and stereotype Managua as a tropical place. The video below puts the song in sharp relief, as it shows imagery from the days of the elder Somoza, a dictator installed by the United States Marines. Managua never developed the cachet of Havana, but it was a bit of a playground.

The video is brilliant in its juxtaposition of the song's flippant remark about siestas and laziness with the languid lounging of the lily-white elites of a bygone era.

The elaborate statuary shown in the middle of the video are in contrast to the ironic statuary currently found at the site where Samoza's treachery resulted in the death of Sandino.

See my entire 2006 Nicaragua photo set on Flickr.